Hero for Hire (3 page)

“Then you help him.” Temas walked away, his left sandal not knowing what his right sandal was doing. He didn’t seem to hear Phandros’ gargling protest. I knew the boy was weeping again.

I turned to Phandros, staring him down. “What villagers have experience in arms?”

"Few indeed." Holding his elbow tight to his hip, Phandros extended his hand, flat, in the ancient sign that bargaining had begun. “I am prepared to offer three hundred for this task. In addition to our agreement regarding the harpy.”

“How many guards are with this Captain?”

“Ten. They killed two, including the lieutenant, when they refused to betray the...er...late king.”

“Only ten some guards for a place this size?”

“Our other soldiers went to Troy to honor our treaty with Menelaus.”

“Then the Captain has not held his place for long?”

“No, indeed. Had our prince been older, he would have taken the command. Being but a lad, however....”

“And now he is king and no older than he was.”

Phandros looked grim. “He has always been a sensible boy. I have known other princelings who have run wild, chasing nymphs, racing chariots, torturing their slaves. When I was tutor to the forty-seven sons of Pharaoh...no matter. Yet even a careful boy may make unwise choices in such dark times.”

I thought of the hacked trees of the sacred grove, of desperate men, of the unseen villagers. “Twelve hundred,” I said boldly and added, “And I’ll recruit some new troops for Leros when I get home. At no extra charge.” Though they’d pay for transporting and feeding them.

“Twelve! Absurd. Six hundred.”

When we’d negotiated before, he’d gone up in increments of no more than fifty. That he made a two hundred drachma leap told me he had no faith in the outcome. He might have as well agreed to my first – admittedly overlarge – demand as a promise to a walking dead man but there was always the slimmest chance that I might come back alive. Then he’d have to pay up. He might not like the House of Leros much but he was the kind who hated to pay out anybody's money.

“This Captain...where’d you find him?”

“He came highly recommended from King Cadmus.”

“Cadmus? I wonder if I know him. What’s his name?”

“Eurytos, or Eurytacles. Something of that sort. Our late king hired him while I was away on business for him. The fellow seemed to understand his duties well enough but he and I had little to do with each other. Not a man of letters...or numbers. He’d be hard pressed to count to ten, I fancy, even if he had both hands.”

“Missing a hand, is he? Ten-fifty.”

“Nine hundred. Yes, he wears a claw fashioned like a crab’s.”

“Doesn’t sound familiar. Nine-fifty and I bring back both head and claw.”

“Done,” Phandros said and spit to seal the bargain. I spit into the same dirt to bind our words together.

I felt pretty pleased with myself. Nine-fifty in addition to my other fees and I could perhaps realize a long-held dream. More than one father had offered a younger son to me as an apprentice. I’d always refused, having seen more than enough brave but badly trained men die. But if I could found a school, a school for heroes, then they wouldn’t be prey for the first Caledonian boar or Nemean lion they came across. And I could pass on what I had learned, not just sword-work or spear-throwing, but the little details. How to get ichor out of leather, how to refuse a sorceress without waking up with two heads, how to ask for a blacksmith or a well-grilled octopus in four languages including Upper Egyptian.

“Any of the villagers have military experience?” I asked again.

"Not one.' Phandros shook his head, then touched it gently as though to be sure it hadn’t fallen off. He held his wine well but the signs still showed in his yellowed eyeballs and lightly tremulous hands.

“What about you?”

“I? I am a scholar, not some vulgar brawler.”

I drew my knife and threw it at him in a forward pass, the blade whistling toward his eyes.

He snatched it by the hilt as it passed his face, reversed it and drew back to return it. Then his thought caught up with his body and he let the knife roll off his fingers. “I abhor violence.”

“But you are not unfamiliar with it? Come on, Phandros. What’s the story?”
He did not answer me, though he opened his mouth as if to speak. A shudder broke over him. “It’s near,” he muttered. “So near.”

Then I heard it too. On the very edge of perception, a keening wail that made the hair on my arms stand up.

Something like a cloud but darker and swifter passed over the sun, dimming the bright day, turning the green grass to dun.

Sudden pain made me look down. Phandros’ bony fingers gripped my wrist. “We must get inside. If it sees us while hunting, nothing will keep it off.”

“Have you seen it?”

“Only as a hell shadow across the moon when first it came. And I have seen what is left of the sheep after it feeds.”

“Only sheep?” I asked. “That’s unusual.”

“So many have fled to the sea or the hinterlands that it may well have killed half a dozen people and we’d not know of it.”

It is true that in such confusion, given a monster, a king who had shown no leadership, and absconding citizens, the ordinary bonds between people would shatter. Captain would break faith with king, husband flee from wife, mother abandon child, mankind would turn from their Gods. Anyone might be destroyed and, without those bonds that tie us to one another, no one would pay attention to anything but saving their own necks.

But if the harpy had killed anyone, I felt it would become known. Harpies are not neat in their habits. Entrails in the trees would be the least of it.

At this appetizing moment, we were called in to eat.

The maids washed our hands and feet while Nausicaa made formal apology for Temas’ non-appearance. I acted as though I believed the excuse of sudden illness and apologized in turn for remaining in the house during their mourning for the king.

After some minutes of this, we were served. The bread and cheese were excellent, the lamb rich with onions and spices in a recipe new to me. I stayed away from the wine, despite Nausicaa’s pressing me, except to pour a libation on the household altar.

I felt guilty at having snatched the goddess’ flagon, even if it was in a good cause. I promised her a new stola as the red one around her shoulders had seen brighter days.

But I sighed a little. So far this job had cost one cage, one sea journey, some tiles and now a stola. And I’d only had a small sum down on deposit. I'd have to hit Phandros up for an increased advance on the new job.

Nausicaa showed me to a small chamber, pleasantly scented with verbena and herbs. Her voice was low with a rough note. “Lay aside your armor, master, and take your afternoon rest.”

I thanked her but made no move toward hasp or strap. “What can you tell me of the king’s mood this last day?”

“I? Nothing. I am but a maid servant here.”

“But of long service. All your life, perhaps?”

“Not so. I came here with my mistress from Lesbos when she arrived as a bride to the King.”

“She is dead?”

Nausicaa inclined her head. Even the lowest women of their island bore themselves like queens. This one looked over my head like a queen ignoring a dirty servant. “Four years ago of a summer fever. It struck suddenly and hard.”

“Yet the king did not remarry. Why not?”

“I was not in his confidence regarding such personal matters.”

“But you were about other things?”

Her gaze flickered to meet mine for an instant. Those black eyes held no humility, no consciousness that she was a mere servant. Pride ran through her like a vein of gold in white quartz. You'd have to break her to get it out.

“What did the symbols on the floor mean?”

“I saw none.”

“Come now! You washed the floor or the others did. I’ll ask them.”

“We did our duty but we saw no such marks.”

“I suppose there were none on the robe he wore either. Did you sew it for him? Did you embroider the collar and the cuffs?”

“My Lord King was naked but for a loincloth when we carried him away. I saw no such robe.” She turned toward the shuttered window. "Will you have this open? It is stuffy in here."

I knew she was lying but such women would face torture sooner than say anything of discredit to the families they serve. I’ve never kept one myself who wouldn’t blab my every action all over the marketplace. Maybe you have to born into the right kind of family.

There was only one thing that surprised me. When she turned from the window, the light caught her face. I looked at her more closely. I saw that her face was as white and wet as curds. Maybe she wasn't lying to protect the King's memory. She was terrified and I thought I knew what it was. In plenty of royal households, if the king should die, his servants were put to torture to determine whether they’d had a hand in the death. Some new kings even slaughtered staff wholesale just to ease their suspicions. As it turned out, I was quite wrong about that. Nausicaa wasn’t afraid of being killed.

I dismissed her, telling her I would nap for a time but wished to be awakened before dusk so I might go up to Artemis’ temple to beseech a blessing on my work.

“The Temple? It is closed...for repairs."

"I wish only to offer a prayer," I said. "I won't bother anyone or stay long."

She caught her lower lip with her teeth. I felt that I'd caught her off-guard but a woman like that was never off-guard for long. "Besides, it is a holy day."

"It is?"

"Our priestesses hold to an older worship than you might find in a larger city. It is ancient and must not be defiled by men."

That was three excuses for why I couldn't go to the Temple. In my experience, the truth never needs more than one. What was this maid trying to keep from me? "The goddess and I are old comrades. I invoke her aid on my every hunt. Against this harpy I will need her more than ever. Surely the priestesses cannot object to a truly reverent visit...even from a man."

"I am going there myself, ere long," Nausicaa said slowly. "I will ask if you are to be permitted to enter. Do not take it amiss if they say no. They are very old and set in their ways."

Four excuses? Something was definitely up. "That is all I ask," I said.

After a few minutes, I opened my door and stopped a girl carrying a bucket. She looked at me with eyes so wide I could see the whites all around. I didn’t question her. I had no doubt Nausicaa had been before me. Nobody would talk now about what had happened to the king. “Get me a cloak, girl. A dark one.”

She must have run both ways for she returned breathless. Pretty thing; I chucked her chin and won a smile.

I flung the cloak over my head and left the house. Just in time too. Nausicaa had just slipped away into the grove beyond the palace.

She too wore a cloak but I am used to tracking and she was not used to being followed. There was hardly a twig to crack under my feet. As in the sacred grove, frightened villagers had picked up all the available wood.

After a time, Nausicaa came out onto the road. As I expected, she stopped and cast a nervous glance around. I stood still, hidden in shadow. She walked on, away from the village and the palace. I kept to the verge in case she turned again.

Nausicaa should have been at home, bringing the mourning clothes out of verbena-scented chests, hunting out gold coins for her master’s eyes, driving underlings to distraction and preparing to pour dust on her head in the funeral procession. Something more important had drawn her from her kitchen and I wanted to know what it was.

The trees on this side of the island leaned over as thought straining to escape a fierce and relentless wind. But the treetops were still, not a leaf rustled. I heard no birds, either, and saw no life, not even a spider.

As I followed the maidservant towards a sunlit clearing, my cloak was caught by crooked branches like grasping fingers. Shaking free, I almost tripped over a vine crossing my foot, though there had been none there a moment before. Even as I watched, another shoot crawled up to clutch lightly around my ankle.

Strangely, I felt no sense of threat. Something here did not want me to follow the woman but prevented me more as a nurse blocks a child’s impetuousness for its own security rather than in anger.

Through the last, straggling trees, I saw Artemis’ temple. Much the same size as the palace but with a cluster of smaller buildings nestled around its skirts, shrines to the other gods. Nausicaa hurried up the main steps, taking her cape from her shoulders and, swinging it wide, turned it inside out. I saw a flash as of gold from the folds even as I heard the clang of the large brass doors as she entered.

I felt it was safe to follow now despite there being no more cover. Gently picking off the vine entangling in my sandal, I crossed the border between trees and clearing.

Instantly, I was driven to my knees by a malevolence as strong and startling as the blare from ten thousand ill-tuned battle trumpets. Every sense was blinded. A blast of malice that seemed made of every evil thought ever directed at me ripped at my mind and body. I could all but feel the poisoned claws pierce and tear my skin.